


Canzone

by prairiecrow



Series: Overture [2]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: M/M, Telepathy, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-14
Updated: 2012-02-14
Packaged: 2017-10-31 04:31:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/339899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prairiecrow/pseuds/prairiecrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An uncomfortable question, and an answer not quite given.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Canzone

**Author's Note:**

> (1) Set post-"The Wire". (2) Sequel to "Overture".

Garak had just stepped out of the turbolift on the second level of the habitat ring, heading back to his quarters after a long day in the shop, when he realized that he wasn't alone. He turned sharply in place, automatically shifting into a ready stance — and found a small dark figure in flowing earth-toned clothing standing beside the closing elevator doors, regarding him with eyes of an exquisite pale blue.  
  
"Peace, protector!" Her voice was soft and calming, and she made no move of either reassurance or aggression. "We mean you no harm."  
  
 _That remains to be seen,_  Garak thought, but aloud he said politely: "You startled me, madam," and straightened into a more neutral conversational posture. Doubtless this Alsergian had no idea that the slight flaring of his nostrils indicated a lingering willingness to engage in combat. "Are you lost? I'd be happy to call —"  
  
"There is no need." She took a step toward him, her hands neatly folded in front of her, and fixed him with a gaze that even he, Obsidian Order operative that he was, found a little too penetrating for comfort. "Tell me, Elim Garak of Cardassia — what is love?"  
  
Garak had a stifle a little snort of laughter at the ridiculousness of the question: it wasn't entirely unexpected, not after the story Julian Bashir had told him at lunch earlier today concerning the arrival of the Alsergian delegation on the station, but he found the impropriety of being ambushed in the asking rather amusing nonetheless.  
  
"Love?" He tasted the word, watching the woman's charcoal face closely. "If you  _are_  a telepath, surely you have no need to ask my opinion?"  
  
The Alsergian twitched her wrists is what Garak could only interpret as a shrug. "The upper mind often supplies factors that the lower mind does not. Will you answer?"  
  
They looked at each other for a long moment before Garak said: "And if I don't?"  
  
Another twitch. "The choice is yours, but as you are the only member of your species present on this station we advise you to remember that you are their representative."  
  
That made Garak smile thinly at the irony of it all. "Very well," he conceded, and it took him less than a second to formulate his answer. "Love? Love between individuals is utterly inconsequential when compared with devotion to the State, which is the communal soul of the Cardassian race. We are unlike many other species you'll encounter in that respect — for us, the grandeur and nobility of the larger picture means far more than the petty rewards offered by any personal attachment."  
  
After a beat the diplomat responded: "But you are a long way from home, and in exile. The comfort of your people is denied to you."  
  
"And who told you that?" Garak was genuinely curious.  
  
"We have observed," she said, as if that provided all the answers Garak could desire. "And in this case," she added, still regarding him without blinking, "we can see that the lower mind provides truths that the upper mind denies itself."  
  
She started to turn as if to leave, but Garak barely had time to feel relief before she turned back again to study him thoughtfully. "You need not suffer," she said enigmatically, and then she did set off down the corridor, leaving Garak to stare after her until she'd disappeared around the curve, troubled with wondering if the disciplines he had mastered in the Obsidian Order had protected the sovereignty of his mind as much as he would have liked.  
  
THE END


End file.
